


Chains

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Chrom!Cynthia, Chrom!Morgan, Disfiguration, Lucina Raised By Grima, Multi, Past Child Abuse, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Vomiting, basically Grima has taken over, dark!Lucina, dark!Morgan, lots of flashbacks, most shepherds are dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3206843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>::UPDATE: GOING ON HIATUS TO REWRITE THIS::</p><p>"And your father?” the man asks. “Dead,” Lucina responds, eyes flickering towards the long, mangy rat that scurries along the floor of her cell. “That’s what my mother told me.”</p><p>Those who oppose Grima are always put to death. Lucina and one other seem to be the exception. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. imprisoned

_It smells._

_That is the first thing Lucina notices. The hallway to the dungeon stinks like rotten fish and something much worse, its scent so wretched that Lucina feels she will throw up. The dark is just as bad. It frightens Lucina, and the little princess wonders what monsters and bad men lie in wait for her the further she goes inside._

_Lucina clutches her mother’s hand, attempting to hide behind the woman’s thick cloak. Her mother makes a disapproving sound in the back of her throat. She sets a gloved hand on Lucina’s head, patting her._

_“It’s alright. They’re just E-level criminals,” Mother says it like it’s supposed to mean something to Lucina, but the girl just shakes her head, furrowing her brow. She looks up at the woman, waiting for her to elaborate._

_Mother smiles. Her hood is up, so the most that Lucina can see is her high cheekbones and lower face. “That means that you can beat them in a fight if you had to,” the woman explains. Without another word, she lets go of Lucina’s hand and walks on._

_It just confuses Lucina more. The princess doesn’t see how she’s supposed to be able to win against older, more experienced fighters. Her mother sounds sure of it, though, and Lucina always listens to her mother._

_The little girl nods to herself, pinching her face into a scowl. Of course. She can do this. She’s a princess after all. So she runs after her mother, stumbling now and then as she hurries to catch up._

_Mother tilts her head to her when she catches up, acknowledging that Lucina is there. “I’m going to teach you another lesson,” she tells her, eyes set on the hallway in front of her._

_“Like with swords?” Lucina asks, raising an eyebrow. “Down here?”_

_“No,” her mother responds. “I’m going to give you a little bit of a...political lesson, if you will. I’ll be teaching you about the criminals we keep here.”_

_Her mother’s long, hurried stride stops as the light from the torches illuminates a door. It’s small and bolted shut, but the strangest thing about it is that it has no doorknob. Her mother still reaches out a hand, though, and in that second, Lucina realizes the trick to it._

_Magic._

_Her mother’s glove seems to come alive with electricity. Yellow sparks dance across her fingertips before jumping out at the door. There is a loud zapping noise, and then a click, before the door creaks open._

_Lucina begins to clap enthusiastically, wide-eyed. “Amazing, Mama!” she exclaims. “Your magic is so pretty.”_

_No matter how many times Lucina sees it, it’ll always excite her. Maybe it’s because Lucina herself doesn’t have the affinity for magic, and she’ll never get to experience the feelings that come with it. She’s surrounded by mages. Her mother, Tharja, Henry. Everyone except Lucina can control magic._

_Mother beckons to Lucina, interrupting the girl’s thoughts with the motion. Lucina follows, letting her mother lead her into the darkness. The door closes behind the pair closes with a thud._

_There are rows and rows of cells on each side. Lucina can make them out with the torchlights’ dim glow, but she only sees the faint outline of prisoners inside the cells. They’re all eerily quiet, which is the complete opposite of what Lucina had thought they’d be._

_The girl had imagined them clawing at the bars of their cages, spitting out curses at Mother and her as they walked past. But they are still, the only sound being that of ragged breathing. Maybe it is her mother’s presence that silences them, which hangs like a heavy cloud of doom._

_“If someone has committed a minor crime,” Mother began to explain, “we usually hold them here for a few days, then transfer them to a larger prison. The only criminals kept here for longer than a week are those who have murdered someone or committed treason. They’re ones we execute.”_

_“Execute?” Lucina wonders aloud. “How do you execute them?”_

_“Mostly hanging. There’ve been a few...oddities, of course, but we almost always take care of it with a noose.”_

_Lucina nods. The casual talk of death is not new to her. The princess has grow up around it; her mother still fights for the crown she wears, so there is plenty of assassinations and scuffles between her supporters and the rebels. As soon as Lucina could walk, she was taught to defend herself in case someone tried to use her to get to Mother. Besides, she feels important when her mother talks to her about serious things like this._

_“Who feeds them?” Lucina inquires, peering at the scrawny figures inside the cells. They don’t move an inch, completely frozen even at the sound of Lucina’s voice._

_“A servant from the kitchen gives them scraps. They get enough,” Mother states, brushing off the question._

_Her mother comes to a complete stop now, as they’ve seemed to reach the end of the dungeon. A wall looms in front of them, and though at first it seems like any other ordinary wall, Lucina manages to sight of it._

_“What’s back there?” Lucina points at the small door, hidden in the shadows._

_Her mother glances at the, then looks away. “Long-term prisoners,” she says, voice tight. “They’re kept in the back, kept out of the way, and kept under tight lock and key.”_

_She grabs ahold of Lucina’s hand. “Don’t worry about it, honey,” her mother’s mouth is turned upwards in a smile now, a sickenly sweet one. “We never have long-term prisoners here.”_

The dungeon is the same as it was when Lucina last saw it. It’s dark, and it’s gross. There’s a thick layer of grime on each and every brick that forms the walls, and the ground below is damp and squishy. The difference this time around is that her mother isn’t taking her here. Instead, Lucina is guarded by a soldier. He is a tall, dark-skinned man with a thick beard, and he dresses in the robes of Plegia, the robes of Grima’s kingdom. Lucina can’t remember his name, but she remembers just last week that she’d been giving him orders in battle. Now, though, the man leads her in chains.

They are infused with magic; Tharja had cuffed Lucina with a flick of her wrist, eyes blank and mouth set in a thin line. When they clamped shut on Lucina, she had heard the hissing of dark magic, so any attempts to escape will surely end in a slow, painful death. Tharja isn’t known for being merciful, especially not to those who defy Grima.

Lucina expects she won’t have to wear them for long. The punishment for treason is death, and Lucina knows Grima will make an example out of her with a public execution. It’ll take maybe a week at most to schedule it, and so Lucina won’t be imprisoned any longer than that.

Which is why she’s surprised they haven’t stopped yet. There’s been a dozen of empty cells scattered both left and right. Lucina can’t understand why the guard doesn’t just shove her in one of those. Is it because Grima doesn’t want her placed next to other prisoners?

A chill runs down her spine. The thought appears that something isn’t right, and it nags at her as the soldier continues to walk, chains firmly gripped in his hands, not revealing even the smallest hint of when they will stop.

Eventually, the torchlight reveals a rather familiar door. Lucina feels as though she’s been doused in water. Her entire body jolts in shock, and she stops, mouth opening to let out a silent gasp.

“W-what is this?” Lucina tries to put forth a front of bravo, but the words come out weak.

The soldier doesn’t answer. He only looks back, then tugs on the chains meaningfully. His eyes betray none of his thoughts.  

No, Lucina thinks. This can’t be happening. She’s been ready for death-torture even-but not this.

The soldier jerks on her chains again, this time harder, and Lucina stumbles forward reluctantly. She watches as the man puts a hand to the door. Dark purple fog runs from his fingertips to the door, then glides down to the lock a few inches below. After a few seconds, an audible click is heard. The soldier doesn’t seem to be very skilled with magic. If Lucina wasn’t chained with Tharja’s special cuffs, she thinks as the soldiers pushes the door open and ushers her inside, she would’ve been able to take him on in a fight.

It’s colder now. Maybe that’s just inside Lucina’s head, though, because she can feel her limbs shake, but she looks down and sees them completely still. Weird. Weird. This whole situation is weird. It isn’t what Lucina had been expecting, and so now she’s thrown off, doesn’t know how to react.

The soldier opens an empty cell with ease and shoves Lucina inside like she’s some sort of throw pillow to toss. She hits the dirt floor hard and can hear the sound of the cell door closing. The chains are still connected to her cuffs, and they dig into her stomach as she lands on top of them. Bruises will eventually show up. Lucina fumbles, attempting to push herself up off the ground with her bound hands. She manages and rocks back on her butt, looking over her shoulder in the direction of the soldier, but all she manages to see is a glimpse of the door slamming shut behind him. Lucina is in disbelief, and she continues to stare at the bars that cage her in. She clenches her fists, ignoring the ache as her wrists knock against metal. This is...beyond what Lucina had expected.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Her heart beats against her ribcage, frantic, and Lucina swallows the lump in her throat. She will rot here, she realizes, skin sagging and bones crumbling till there’s nothing left but ash. The thought is more terrifying than facing the death penalty, almost as frightening as facing Grima’s rage. Lucina curls up as well as she can with handcuffs and is just glad that no one can hear her cry, ugly tears staining her cheeks and snot dripping from her nose

Or so she thought.

In between loud sobs, Lucina hears a cough. The girl jerks her head up immediately, looking in the direction of the noise. There, in the cell across from her, is a large lump. It’s too dark to tell, but Lucina believes it to be a man.

“Sorry,” the voice that speaks to her is hoarse,  and it cracks. “It’s...been a while since I’ve had any company down here.”

“Who are you?” Lucina’s own voice wavers. How long had this person imprisoned? She couldn’t remember her mother telling her about any new long-term prisoners, and besides-

_“We never have long-term prisoners here.”_

Lucina swallows. Another lie then, one of the many that Mother had shoved down her throat during childhood. The man shuffles towards the edge of his own cell, closer to Lucina’s. A few of his features become more visible. His dark hair isn’t very long at all, which is odd, and his skin is pale and saggy.

“I suppose I’m like you,” the man says finally. “A traitor to the crown and all that.”

Lucina feels a spike of anger surge through her at the words. Her tears are ignored in favor of fury. “What crown?” she hisses. “The one that Grima stole?”

“Hm,” the man hums. “Yes, I suppose it would be that one. I did try and stop her, you know. That’s why I’m here.”

Lucina's face pinches into a scowl. “That doesn't make sense. If you were fighting during the first rebellion, then you should’ve been put in a fort in Regnant Ferox or executed.”

“Well, I must be special.”

The man acts far too pleasant about the whole imprisoned-for-life thing, and Lucina wonders if solitude has made him go mad.

“What about you?” he asks, interest leaking through his voice. “What’d you do to get a life sentence?”

“I...I tried to kill Grima.”

The man whistles. “Wow,” he laughs. “I’m surprised she didn’t smite you on the spot.”

“Me, too,” Lucina mutters, remembering the grotesque, horrified look on her mother's face when Lucina failed in slitting her throat. 

A silence passes between the two of them, heavy and drawn-out, after their admissions. Lucina doesn't feel much like talking. She's embarrassed that this man has seen her in such a pathetic state, so embarrassed that she doesn't want to speak to him again until she can gain control of her emotions, and perhaps by doing that she'll retain some shred of the dignity she once had. The other man doesn't seem like talking much either. Lucina wonders if his voice has finally tired. He'd mentioned earlier about not using it very often. She's proven wrong when he speaks once more, for the final time that night.

“Chrom,” the man says. “That’s my name. I’d shake your hand if I could, but…”

“Yeah, I get it.” Lucina bites her lip nervously. She doesn't know how much this Chrom character knows of the outside world. If he recognizes her name somehow, will he realize that she's the spawn of Grima? And when he does will he spit at her? Curse her? Whatever the answer is, Lucina doesn't want to find out. From the way things look, she'll be stuck with him for a long time, and Lucina would rather have good company than bad.

“You may call me Marth."


	2. memoria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been 84 years since i updated, and i have no excuses. 
> 
> pls enjoy

It’s hard to keep track of the days that follow Lucina’s imprisonment. The dungeon is so dark. Its only lights are the torches that hang along the walls,  and so Lucina never sees the sun rise or set. If it hadn’t been for the daily meals that Lucina received, she would’ve lost track completely.

Lucina’s meals consist of stale, moldy bread and soup. On good days, they give her meat scraps. Chrom gets the same food in the cell across from her. He gobbles it down with haste, as if he’s afraid the servant will come back in and take it away if he doesn’t eat it quick enough.

It takes longer for Lucina to appreciate her meals. She’d lived on a soldier’s diet before, yes, but it had been better than this. Lucina can remember eating plenty of protein when she trained with the others; her mother made sure of it, claiming that Lucina needed to build more muscle if she wanted to get stronger.

Lucina frowns at the memory and picks up her bread, the chains weighing down on her wrists as she does so. It’s gotten easier to move around with them. Lucina has had time to practice after all. She dips her bread in the soup easily, then takes a bite and grimaces.

“Potato soup today,” she tells Chrom, voice echoing throughout the small room.

“My favorite.” Lucina can’t tell if the man is being sarcastic or not.

“I think I like carrot the best,” Lucina offers. She stirs the soup with her bread and munches off another piece.

Morgan loved potato soup, Lucina remembers. He had refused to eat anything else when he was sick. He’d pushed away the chicken broth that Mother had tried to spoon feed him, whining about how he only wanted potato soup.

She wonders what Morgan is doing right now. She hopes that he’s all right, that Grima hasn’t taken any of her anger out on him. To be fair, though, that probably isn’t possible. Morgan is Grima’s pride and joy; she’d never do anything to hurt him.

She remembers Morgan as a young boy, his bright eyes shining like stars when she taught him how to fight with a sword, and recalls how his eyes had darkened as he’d gotten older, tainted by Grima’s tutelage.

Lucina’s bread slips from her fingers and falls into the cracked bowl with a plop. It takes her a few moments to compose herself.  

“Do you ever miss the sun?” Lucina asks, voice catching in her throat.

“Every day,” Chrom responds.

“I wish I didn’t have these chains on,” Lucina muses later, once their empty bowls have been taken away by some sort of magic. “I can’t train at all. I’ve probably lost half of my muscle tone.”

Chrom laughs, “What do you need to train for? The war is already won.”

It’s hard to see, but Lucina swears she catches a bitter grin splayed across her companion’s face. Lucina leans her head back against her cell wall. She’s gotten used to the grime and dust, and she is just as dirty now. It doesn’t bother her anymore.

“I know it’s stupid,” Lucina starts off, “but sometimes I like to think that my comrades are coming for me.”

Chrom loses his smile and gives her a nod. She thinks he looks rather serious now. “It was the same for me the first few weeks,” Chrom says. “Then I found out that they were all dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucina offers, but she knows her condolences are empty. She doesn’t know Chrom’s former companions, and she barely knows Chrom himself.

Chrom isn’t bothered by her words. He merely cocks his head to the side and asks, “What are your friends like?”

“They aren’t really my friends,” Lucina admits, chest hollow at the thought. She closes her eyes and tries to picture them in her mind.

Severa sneering one second and blushing the next. Gerome who constantly wore his mask and kept his distance from the others. Yarne trembling in fear even as he cut down his enemies, and Cynthia-

The memories are becoming more painful, even a little fuzzy now. Lucina frowns at the throbbing in her head.

Her comrades had been odd. But kind. They were definitely kind.

“They have...big personalities?” Lucina says hesitantly. It’s hard to describe them, the people that changed her life, and she doesn’t think she can sum them up in just a few words.

Chrom chuckles, nodding as if he understands. “How’d you meet them?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Lucina warns.  
  
Chrom gives her a look, and Lucina can tell that he is rolling his eyes. “Well, I’ve got plenty of time,” he says dryly, chains rattling as he gestures for her to go on.

* * *

Lucina’s mission was simple; go into the valley and exterminate the rebels’ precious exalt, their figurehead that they’ve kept hidden for years. Her target was a crippled woman with blonde hair, skin pale and eyes murky. An easy kill.

“Of course she’s not the real exalt,” Grima had sneered. “She’s not even of exalted blood; she bears no Brand. I don’t know why they’re using her as a tool.”

Lucina had thought that Grima was just bitter because it took her this long to find the woman.

The village lay shadowed by mountains, run-down and in shambles. If Lucina hadn’t been told the rebels were hiding there, then she wouldn’t have thought it was possible for any human to live there.

When Lucina went on assassination missions, a few other soldiers would always accompany her. It was usually Noire or Morgan, people that she was familiar with. This time, though, Grima instructed her to go alone.

Lucina wasn’t told the number of rebels that she would meet, so to say she was cautious would be an understatement. Once she found the village, she scanned the place for days with little activity. Movement was scarce, and Lucina could only pinpoint the positions of about three rebels. Her one success was that she found every escape route there was for her to flee to once her mission was done.

Eventually, Lucina decided to zero in on the place with the most activity; one of the huts on the northeast side. Lucina didn’t want a messy job; she quickly knocked out the two guards at the entrance before she crept inside. Her only light was the moonlight that shined in from the windows and cracks of the house.

She’d hunted in conditions far worse before.

Her target was not hard to find, and she certainly wasn’t heavily guarded. Lucina found the pale woman in the second room she looked in. She lay in a small, moth-eaten bed, propped up by pillows and covered up to her chin with a thin sheet. Her limp, blonde hair was spread out like a halo. 

It would be a peaceful death. Lucina always made sure to make her kills quickly. This woman was lucky; she’d be asleep. Most of Lucina’s victims were awake when she slit their throats.

Lucina drew her sword from its scabbard. She rose it up, both hands tight on the handle, and brought it down unflinchingly with precision.

_CLANG._

The sound of steel on steel met Lucina’s ears, and the princess felt a sudden force pushing her out of the way. It was unexpected, so Lucina grappled for a better hold of the sword that slipped from her grasp.

Lucina’s eyes flitted up, and she sized up the opponent bearing down on her. It was a girl around her age with dark blue hair and brown eyes.  She wore rusted armor and worn gloves. Her lance looked to be in bad condition. It was old and well-used, yet the girl in front of Lucina wielded it with skill.

Lucina silently commended the girl for being able to surprise her.

“Leave her alone, villain!” the girl shouted. “I, Cynthia, will smite you where you stand. Prepare yourself!”

What?

Lucina swept her sword forward in an arc, pushing Cynthia back, and jumped back a few feet. She leveled her sword and paused to observe the other girl. Cynthia had managed to catch herself along the wall, and she was already lurching forward again.

She had a good recovery time and plenty of energy-

Lucina caught Cynthia’s lance with her own sword and knocked the weapon out of her opponent’s hands with one swipe. The lance flew away, its sharp end catching on the cloth of Cynthia’s neckline, tearing the material. A thin line of red was left behind.

-but her movements weren’t controlled enough. Lucina could tell that this girl had seen the battlefield before. All Cynthia had was brute force and vigor, though, and she would need a few more years of experience before she caught up to Lucina, who had had a weapon shoved in her hands almost as soon as she left the womb.

Lucina had hoped to leave as many casualties as possible on this mission. She’d never enjoyed killing. It was messy and left a bad taste in her mouth. She didn’t get any kind of gratification from stabbing people in the gut, seeing the light leave their eyes.

Now, though, she’d have to kill this girl. Cynthia had seen her.

“You’re not bad,” Lucina offered. The princess pointed her sword at Cynthia’s throat, tilting up the other girl’s chin with her blade. The sword had been a birthday present. Mother gave it to her when she had turned fifteen.

Something lit up in Cynthia’s eyes. Was that hatred? Or something else? Lucina couldn’t tell. The enemy made a sound that was akin to a gasp, and Lucina strained her ears to hear.

“W-what…”

“Huh?” Lucina asked, narrowing her eyes. The situation wasn’t odd. She usually listened to the last words of her victims. “Speak up.”

“What are you doing with my father’s sword?” The girl’s voice was more shocked than angry.

Lucina, despite her better judgement, faltered. She had killed hundreds of people without hesitation, and not once had this happened before. The princess never took what they said into consideration.

She was a soldier after all. The battlefield was kill or be killed, and if you showed sympathy to the enemy, then you would surely be struck down.

But this enemy’s words made Lucina pause. That couldn’t be. This sword belonged to _Lucina’s_ father. Mother had said so when she gifted it to her. Why was this girl saying such a thing?

“What madness are you spewing? Falchion is my-,” Lucina trailed off, her eyes zeroing in on the other’s neck.

There was a small mark peeking out from where Cynthia’s lance had cut her collar and scratched her neck. Lucina frowned. Was that a bruise? Or perhaps a birthmark? Panic spiked through her body, and she reached down to grab Cynthia’s collar roughly.

Cynthia squawked, starting to bubble out protests, but Lucina ignored her as she shoved the material out of the way. She felt her breath leave her, her lungs turn to ice. This was impossible. It had to be forged.

The Brand of the Exalt burned Lucina’s eye as she gazed at it. The princess let go of the other girl slowly, sword falling to the floor. Her hand trembled as she raised it to cover her left eye, suddenly self-conscious.

“Ridiculous,” Lucina scoffed, voice rough. She backed away from the girl until her back hit the wall with a thud.

The bloodline was almost dead. The last of those with exalted blood had died in disgrace during the first rebellion. That’s what Mother said. There was no one else except Lucina, the true princess of Ylisse’s fallen country, the princess of Grima’s empire.  

So why did Cynthia, a rebel, bear the Brand on her lower neck?

A large sound cut through Lucina’s thoughts. The door to the room had been thrown open, hinges squeaking protest, and the dull sound of footsteps thundered. Lucina’s hands shook. It wasn’t the guards she knocked out, but other rebels?

The princess needed to get out of here. She’d failed in killing her target, and now she was going to be captured or killed. Lucina lurched forward to grab at her sword, but Cynthia’s feet kicked it out of the way, and Lucina only grabbed at the crooked floorboards below.

 _This is bad_ , she thought, when she spotted the familiar crackle of magic coming her way. Lucina tried to dodge, but her reaction time was off, and the cloud of fire hit her in the shoulder, instantly burning away her shirt and eating away at the skin beneath.

Lucina hissed at the searing pain and stumbled. Her hand rose to rest on her injury in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain. She continued to clutch at her blackened flesh, eyes appraising the new enemies before her. There were three of them; a mage, a myrmidon, and a mercenary. 

It sounded like the beginning of one of Henry’s bad jokes.

Cynthia was picking up her fallen lance. It seemed like she was picking herself up as well, for the steely look in her eyes had returned. One of the rebels-the myrmidon- had rushed over to the target’s bedside, checking on her with tears in his eyes. He looked relieved once he saw she was unharmed.

Normally, Lucina would be able to take on all of them,  but her shoulder was injured and Falchion was on the other side of the room. She was at an obvious disadvantage.

So why hadn’t the rebels attacked again? There was a long pause from the time the magic had been fired at her. It should’ve been their chance. Did they think she would surrender now, so there was no reason to fight?

The princess pushed the panic that welled within her aside. No. She was better than this. _Remember Mother’s lessons_ , she told herself. _Never give up. Never surrender. Rather die in glory than shame. Never retreat. Never be captured. Kill yourself before you are taken hostage._

That’s right. Lucina could still fight.

Lucina was sprawled on the floor so that the other hand that wasn’t touching her shoulder was resting on her boot. If she moved her hand quickly and quietly, then they probably wouldn’t notice. It didn’t matter if they did notice, though. Lucina would be gone before they could do anything.

“Why aren’t you attacking me?” Lucina snarled, glaring. Her enemies were silent, bodies stiff and eyes blank. The only one who showed emotion was the myrmidon as he wept over the target, gently tucking the blanket around her.

The general lack of response was frustrating. The princess felt herself grow even more agitated as the seconds of silence ticked by. Eventually, Lucina moved first, digging her fingernails into her burned flesh. She felt the sharp sparks shoot up her shoulder and made sure to twist her face into an expression of pain . These people seemed like the weak type, the kind that would pity her. Doing this should elicit some reaction from them.

It did.

“Stop that!” Cynthia exclaimed, face twisting into confusion. She made to move forward, but the mage motioned for her to stay where she was. “Why are you doing that?”

Lucina sneered and let her hand drop. There was blood on her fingers now, she noticed. It was alright, though. Lucina could handle any pain. Mother had taught her how. “Don’t play innocent. I’m sure you have all sorts of torture planned for me. That’s why you’re not killing me, right? You think I’ll give you information.”

“You shouldn’t talk as if you know us! We’re not like you guys!” the red-haired mercenary scoffed, flicking one of her twintails.

The mage pushed his glasses up and clicked his teeth. “Severa,” he warned.

While this was going on, Lucina’s hand had slipped within her boot to withdraw the dagger that was strapped to her lower leg. She felt a thrill of victory go through her once she had it in her grasp, and she tried not to let it show on her face. The princess wanted to see how far her enemies would take this farce of concern.

“How old are you?” the mage asked. “You can’t be any older than us.”

Lucina frowned. “My age is none of your business.”

“Yes, it is,” the mage retorted. His eyes were stern, and Lucina felt like she was six years old again, being scolded by her mother. “We don’t kill children.”

So that was the reason they hadn’t attacked her. How boring. Lucina tightened her grip on the dagger and smiled. “Don’t worry, then,” the princess said, voice dark. “ _You_ won’t have to.”

In a flash, Lucina drew her knife forward. It glinted in the moonlight, its seal shiny and purple. The seal was the symbol of Grima, the symbol of her mother. Beautiful, Lucina thought as she sank the dagger into her thigh.

The reaction was immediate. Steam rose from her thigh, a dark red cloud, and Lucina felt as though her leg had been doused in boiling water. The pain spread fast. From her thigh to her calf, then up to lower belly.

All she could see was red. The color of blood. The color of Grima. She hated that color so much. When she went on missions, it spilled on her skin and left her stinking for days. No matter how hard she scrubbed at night, it was still always there, lurking underneath and poisoning her from the inside out.

She was born with it, Grima’s fellblood.

Lucina listened and found that someone was screaming. It was a familiar scream. Lucina had heard it on the battlefield and even during Mother’s torture lessons.

Oh, that’s right.

It was her. She was the one screaming.

Mother wouldn’t want it any other way, she knew. And so Lucina thought that, too. That it wasn’t a bad way to die. Even if it hurt. Lucina’s lungs were becoming stuffy, as if they were being filled up with something, and it was so hard to breathe.

 _It’s okay_ , she told herself. _It’s fine._

_Because it is for Mother._

_If it is for Mother, then…_

...But she didn’t want to die. Not really.

The red darkened, turning black, and Lucina thought no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this whole chapter was supposed to contain all of lucina's flashback scenes with the other future kids (a.k.a the resistance) but it would've ended up being 10k+ words and taken forever to write, let alone post...so here ya go.
> 
> we have chrom!cynthia and chrom!morgan. this fic is going to turn into an episode of Maury i swear


	3. treatment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucina is treated by a familiar face and a new one, then told the conditions to her stay at the rebel camp.

“Lucina! Lucina!”

Someone was calling her name.

It was freezing. Lucina found herself drifting in a dark void, unable to move. Her limbs were heavy and unresponsive, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t open her eyes. Had she died?

At that thought, Lucina felt warmth grace her face, curling at the edge of her cheek. It lingered for a moment, before rising up to cover her left eye.

“You are lucky.” It was a different voice this time. It wasn’t loud and frightened, but calm and soothing.  

“If it weren’t for your own will, you would be dead, regardless of what your exalted blood wished.”

More warmth emerged, stroking Lucina’s head.

“Not wanting to die...it is such a simple thing. Nobody wants to die. It’s surely the thought that crosses everyone’s mind when they look Death in the eyes. But you? You were trained to die, yet somehow you still found yourself yearning for life. You hoped for that life and were honest with yourself.”

“I find that admirable.”

Her left eye was blinded by a green light, and Lucina hissed, straining to adjust to it.

"You are still needed in this world.”

Lucina caught sight of a glowing manakete before she was plunged back into the darkness, the other’s words echoing in her ears.

“Go forth. Your exalted blood has saved you.”

* * *

She woke up to sunlight and an ache in her leg. Lucina’s eyes flew open, and she was greeted with the dark-green canopy of a tent. She sat up, squinting at the harsh sunlight that peeked through the tent’s entrance.

Lucina’s mind was muddled and foggy. She tried to remember where she was. Was she on fighting on the front? No. One of her attendants would’ve woken her up early if she was. A mission then?

Her last one was-

It came back then, her memories of the failed assassination and her own suicide attempt, and Lucina’s chest swelled with anxiety. The princess placed a hand on her chest, futilely trying to calm her heartbeat. She took deep breaths and ran through the situation over and over again in her head.

The poison didn’t work. That or someone had intervened and stopped it from doing its job. If that was the case, then who? Lucina had been told that the poison was special, that it couldn’t be stopped by any regular healer. That was why Mother had told Lucina not to use the dagger unless she was sure it was the only way out. No one would be able to save her from the poison once it was in her system, not even Mother’s most skilled healers. So how?

The image of a manakete surrounded by green light flashed through Lucina’s mind, but the princess pushed the ridiculous thought away.

Lucina shoved away the blanket that rested on top of her, hands hesitantly fingering her bandaged thigh. Most of her leg was covered in gauze, and so Lucina couldn’t get a good look at the skin underneath. There was a stain of dark purple, though, that crept up passed the bandages and peeked out at her hipbone; it served as proof that Lucina really had tried to kill herself.

She made to stand and when she stumbled, falling back down, Lucina realized her shoulder was swathed in bandages as well. The gauze was tight but not too tight, and Lucina could feel the slight stickiness of ointment underneath. Whoever it was that cleaned her up, they obviously knew what they were doing.

Lucina didn’t know if she should be relieved or not. Her goal had been to die, after all.

 _No,_ a voice inside her head chided. _That’s not it at all._

Lucina frowned and took in her surroundings. She needed to get a better grasp of the situation.

From the looks of it, she wasn’t in a medical tent. The lack of patients and medical supplies made that clear. It seemed like Lucina was in somebody’s private tent, what with the odd knickknacks and books scattered here and there. The most reasonable conclusion was that the rebels had taken her in.

Lucina itched to get her hands on a weapon. She needed something to protect herself with. There was no telling when her captors would show up, and the princess had no idea what they wanted with her. Treating a prisoner and not even chaining them up? Talk about stupid.

Lucina clenched her hands into fists and scowled. The opportunity to escape was there, but she was too injured to take advantage of it. The situation was frustrating.

There was a sudden noise outside, the raising of voices. Lucina edged away from the tent entrance as the ones talking came closer.

“-idea what you’re-”

“-business! Trying to do something-!”

“-yourself killed!”

Lucina heard a loud crash after that and a high-pitched yelp.

“Serves you right!” someone laughed.

A growl. “Shut it! Now I gotta go back and get more!”

“Whatever. I’ll go check on her while you do.”

“Don’t hurt her, Severa!”

“Oh, please! As if I’d pick on somebody that’s hurt.”

Silence.

“Ya would.”

“What?” Severa squawked.

“Anyways, if ya really plan on visiting her, then look at her leg, ‘kay? We don’t know if the poison’s still in there.”

There was a huff and then the shuffling of feet, and then the flap to Lucina’s tent was pushed aside. The redhead from earlier poked her head inside, face twisted into a grimace. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of Lucina.

“Awake already, huh,” she commented. Her voice was filled with scorn, but Lucina could tell she was impressed at the princess’s recovery time.

Lucina wrapped her arms around her knees, curling into a ball. Her aching limbs twinged. “What do you want?” she asked hoarsely.

Severa sighed and rolled her eyes. “Look. I’m not going to torture you whatever it is you think we do. Our medic is getting you some food right now. He wanted me to come in and check your wounds.”

Lucina frowned. Slowly, she unfurled herself on the mat and extended her arm, offering her shoulder to Severa for inspection. The other girl came closer, seemingly pleased that Lucina wasn’t putting up a fight.

All the better. Just a little closer and Lucina would be able to lunge forward and tear into Severa’s throat with her teeth. Lucina could taste it already, the blood flooding her mouth as she snapped the flesh between her molars. The princess didn’t like to make a mess when she killed, but if it was the only way...

Severa leaned over, unaware of her impending doom, and took Lucina’s arm in her hands with more care than Lucina thought she was capable of. The mercenary’s fingers trailed on the edges of her bandaged shoulder, and Severa dug a knife out of her pocket to cut the gauze open.

Lucina’s lips twisted in pain as her injury was exposed to the air. She tensed her muscles slightly and prepared to spring into action, relaxing her jaw.

“You’ll need more ointment,” Severa commented, furrowing her brow. She motioned for Lucina to turn so she was facing towards her. Lucina obeyed and let her arm fall to her side. Severa was close-so close that Lucina could feel the other girl’s breath on her skin as Severa leaned in to inspect her leg-and yet Lucina remained still.

A thousand thoughts ran through her mind, none of them pleasant, as Lucina came to the conclusion that no, she couldn’t kill Severa right now.

The rebels had sent someone to treat Lucina’s wounds. They were either genuinely concerned for her health or creating this ploy to catch Lucina off guard. But if Lucina killed Severa, they definitely wouldn’t be very eager to heal her. The safest option was to bide her time and go along with whatever it was the rebels had planned.

Lucina swallowed and told herself to be patient, even as her instincts sang to her, urging Lucina to fight right now with what little she had.

Severa trimmed away at the gauze on Lucina’s leg carefully, blissfully unaware to how close she’d been to death a few seconds earlier. The redhead took her time with Lucina’s thigh. It was easy to see that it would need more care than the simple burn on her shoulder.

Lucina inhaled as Severa peeled away the dressings, reigning in her reactions to the stinging pain. She wondered how much flesh would be on her thigh, if there’d be any at all now. Grima’s seal was known for tearing away at the life that it touched; it made sense for there to be little left of her leg.

Even though Lucina had prepared herself for the worst, she still flinched at the sight of it.

It was disgusting. A lump of dark purple with small rivers of black running over it, something so grotesque that Lucina felt like throwing up. Were those black rivers what remained of her veins?

How depressing.

Severa voiced her repulsion at the sight, wrinkling her nose and backing away from Lucina. “That’s so gross! It smells dead! What the heck! If I knew it was going to be this nasty, I wouldn’t have undressed it.”

Lucina balled her hands into fists. She didn’t need to be told how disgusting her injury was. She saw it.

 _Severa is a horrible medic_ , Lucina thought. _Ripping out her throat would do the world a favor._

“It looks like a Risen leg,” Lucina said dully, looking away from Severa’s horrified face.

“Ugh,” Severa shivered and put her hands up. “I’m not touching that.”

It was odd how considerate she had been earlier, approaching Lucina with a featherlight touch, and now that Severa had seen what lay beneath the compresses, she refused to even look at the injury.

Lucina narrowed her eyes. “That’s fine,” she said, staring at the ground. “I don’t care.”

“Um, wow. Someone has an attitude problem.”

Lucina fixed her with a look. “Are you scared of a little dead flesh?”

Severa flushed, straightening her shoulders. “Well, I’m sorry that I didn’t have the same creepy training regime that you did growing up. You know, the kind that made you immune to stuff like this. Any normal person would be freaked.”

“You know about that?” Lucina asked, amused at the obvious barb that Severa threw her way.

The mercenary bristled and crossed her arms over her chest. “Who doesn’t? Everyone knows that the Grimleal brainwash their kids.”

“Really,” Severa continued, unable to meet Lucina’s eyes as she twirled a strand of her hair with her finger, “I don’t understand why we’re treating you so nice. You’re just a regular old sicko. We get kids like you all the time. For some reason, though, Cynthia and Owain convinced everybody else that you’re special.”

Despite how disgusted Severa seemed with her, Lucina realized that the other girl was talking to her an awful lot. It was very contradictory. Granted, most of what she said were insults, but if Lucina truly repulsed the mercenary then she would’ve left by now.

“How strange,” Lucina said, smiling. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

“What?” Severa stared at her, taken aback. She looked a little...disappointed? Maybe she’d been hoping for Lucina to take the bait and attack her. Maybe she’d wanted to see Lucina cry.

Either way it was very childish.

As if venomous words from a stranger could hurt Lucina. Mother had taught her from a young age: _Wear their insults like armor._

“I guess you and I are a lot alike then, aren’t we?” Lucina asked, tone completely innocent.

Severa sputtered, seemingly at a loss for words as her face grew redder and redder, cheeks puffing out. Lucina was almost worried the girl would burst. Almost.

“You...and.. m-me? ALIKE?” Severa spun on her heels, throwing her hands into the air, and let out an angry hiss as she marched out of the tent.

There was a brief commotion outside. Lucina could distinctly hear Severa calling her names as a few others tried to placate the mercenary, and then the stomping of her boots. A few seconds after the sound faded away, a head poked its way inside the tent.

“Are ya alright in here?”

It was a young man with short, light hair and a thin scar over his eye. He had a rough look to his face, like that of a thug, but his clothing said that he was a medic. In his hands, he held a plate stacked with food.

Lucina’s mouth watered at the sight. It’d been awhile since she last ate. Swallowing, she said, “Yes, I’m fine. Your friend never finished changing my bandages, though.”

The medic let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes. “Figures,” he muttered, setting the plate down on tray. He rolled up his sleeves and held out a hand. “The name’s Brady.”

Tentatively, Lucina took it. “Thank you,” she said. “For taking care of me.”

“No biggie,” Brady said gruffy, retracting his hand. “I’ll get ya cleaned up, then ya can eat.”

Brady pulled up a chair next to Lucina and sat in it. He worked quickly, cleaning the wounds and then dressing them again. His hands were surprisingly gentle and when he waved his staff over Lucina, his intensity softened.

"A lot of us believe that you’re lucky to be alive,” Brady informed Lucina. He put the plate of food in front of her and rubbed the end of his nose. “I don’t think it’s luck. Luck doesn’t save people from wounds like those.”

There were a few drumsticks, two small to be anything but chicken, some lumpy-looking veggies, slices of apple, and a biscuit. Lucina eagerly grabbed the biscuit with her good hand and shoved it in her mouth, chewing slowly to savor the taste.

Brady shot her a look of shock. “I didn’t think ya’d eat it.”

Lucina swallowed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Should I not have?” she asked.

“NO!” Brady exclaimed, waving his hands. “It’s just...I thought ya would put up a fight, ya know? Claim it was poisoned?”

Lucina stared at Brady for a moment before carefully choosing her words. “You don’t seem like the type,” she said, “to treat a patient and then kill them. It would be a waste of your time.”

“Now,” the princess reluctantly began, “there is a possibility that there was some sort of truth serum in the food-”

“I wouldn’t,” Brady sputtered, eyebrows knitting together.

“-but I don’t think a rag-tag group of insurgents such as yourself would have the funds to buy something like that. Therefore, I deemed the food safe to eat,” Lucina continued, reaching for a drumstick.

Brady let out a sort of wheeze then, short and deep, like he was laughing. “Yer something else, ya know that?”

“Yes, I’ve been told that many times,” Lucina said indifferently. She raised the chicken leg to her mouth and tore into it with a viciousness that would’ve been reserved for Severa’s throat if she hadn’t changed her mind.

Brady told Lucina once she finished eating that it might take weeks before her leg healed. She would have the opportunity to walk on crutches once her shoulder was fully recovered, though, which should happen tomorrow.

“What are my restrictions?” Lucina asked, deciding to get right to the point.

Brady shifted, uncomfortable as he looked to the entrance to the tent wearily. “Ya have to get clearance first,” he explained. “From one of our leaders. Then ya have to be supervised wherever ya go.”

Lucina nodded her head. “Alright,” she agreed. “That’s reasonable enough. Anything else?”

"That's just it. Yer clearance and supervision."

Lucina narrowed her eyes. There was something Brady wasn't telling her, but she decided not to try her luck by pushing too hard too soon.

"Who's this leader I have to meet?" Lucina questioned. “Do I know him?"

“Let’s just say _he_ knows _you_ ,” Brady’s nose twitched as he emphasized the two words.

Lucina had to suppress a great sigh. The one good thing about Grima’s army was that no one talked in hints and riddle there. When someone spoke they got right to the point, their instructions clear and concise.

She honestly didn’t understand how these revolutionaries got anything done with how they prattled in code all the time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, at least this chapter didn't take like five months. Despite what you may think, no, this story won't have any bashing in it.
> 
> Go ahead and tell me if you want any certain pairings in the story, and I'll try and make them work, though there's a few that I've already decided on. You can find those in the tags. 
> 
> Next Chapter: We get to meet one of the remaining Shepherds! Guess who it is? ;)


	4. tear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucina meets one of the rebel leaders and new truths are brought to life.

Once she felt up to it, Lucina was guided by Brady as she hobbled over on crutches to the designated meeting spot. The stares that greeted her once she exited the tent were not hard to miss. It seemed like everybody in camp was gawking at her, whispering here and there as they indiscreetly pointed.

Lucina tried not to let it unnerve her. She was used to the fanatic gazes of the Grimleal after all. Something like this was nothing.

Brady directed her to another tent not that far away from the one she had just left, which Lucina was thankful for. Her movements were odd and unbalanced; the princess was afraid that if she had to walk too far she might fall down.

There was a large table inside the tent with detailed maps and scrolls sprawled across it. Cynthia and a manakete-who introduced herself as Nah-were already sitting at the table, waiting for Lucina.

Lucina felt a chill go through her at the sight of Nah. She was reminded of the dream she had had earlier and remembered the manakete she'd seen there. Nah looked nothing like the woman in her dream, though, and Lucina's feeling of paranoia was quickly replaced by anxiety.

Cynthia sprung up from her seat, moving to pull Lucina's chair out for her. "You look a lot better!" the girl chirped.

It was strange. No one that Lucina had ever tried to kill cared about her wellbeing. Though that was probably because Lucina followed through in killing them most of the time. Cynthia was the exception.

Lucina offered the girl a nod in return for her words, face expressionless. She didn't want to come across as too friendly. "Thank you."

With the help of Brady, Lucina settled in the chair and rested her crutches against the table. She looked around. "Where is this…leader of yours?"

Nah cleared her throat, clasping her hands together. "He'll be here shortly," the manakete explained. "He's been running a few errands."

"Is he an adult?" Lucina asked. "From what I've seen, most of your recruits are children."

Nah smiled tightly. "Yes, he is. You could even say he's one of our veterans."

The manakete seemed to ignore the children comment, or maybe she just didn't think it was important?

"He's been fighting a suuuper long time!" Cynthia interjected. "Like, before any of us were even born."

Lucina narrowed her eyes. Before any of them were born…

"Was he a Shepherd then?" she inquired, though she was sure that he was. If this leader was a Shepherd, then that probably meant...

Her question startled Brady. "Ya know about the Shepherds," he stated in disbelief.

"My mother liked to give me history lessons in her spare time. She often told me tales of Ylisse's toughest resistance."

The silence that fell was deafening, and Lucina's heart constricted in her chest as the others looked at her in shock. Had she said something offensive?

"I didn't think the Grimleal were allowed to talk about the Shepherds," Nah said, leaning forward in her seat. The manakete set her hands on the table. "From what our sources say, Grima had the Shepherds wiped from the books and wiped from memory after most of them were caught."

"Well, my mother's not your ordinary Grimleal," Lucina retorted. The princess clenched her hands into fists to stop them from shaking.

"So I know about the Shepherds," the princess continued. "Big deal. That doesn't mean anything."

"It does, actually," Nah's eyes brightened, her excitement growing. "You see, we are-"

"Nah."

The voice that spoke was rough and deep. Nah froze at the sound of it. Lucina turned her head to the tent's entrance where a tall, dark-haired man stood with his arms crossed over his chest. His face was solemn, and Lucina could make out a long, wide scar across his cheek.

Cynthia straightened her shoulders and saluted. "Sir!"

"Lon'qu!" Nah greeted breathlessly. She started to rise as well. "We weren't expecting you back so-"

"Sit," the man commanded. "The both of you."

Nah and Cynthia obeyed quickly, heads lowered, and the man called Lon'qu shuffled closer to the table with a barely noticeable limp.

He stared at Lucina with dark, raging eyes, like he was trying to stare holes right through her. Lucina found herself shifting under his gaze, uncomfortable with the unwanted attention.

"You were supposed to leave the interrogation to me," Lon'qu muttered to Nah.

"I wasn't interrogating her!" the manakete protested. "We were exchanging information."

The man ignored Nah and took the chair beside her, his eyes never leaving Lucina's.

He let out a grunt. "So you're Lucina."

Lucina's blood ran cold, and she stiffened. Her first instinct was to cover her left eye in an attempt to hide it, but she resisted, realizing that it was too late for that. Doing so would only make her look guiltier.

"I knew it!" Cynthia squealed.

"What makes you say that?" Lucina asked the man, making sure to keep her face blank.

Lon'qu snorted and pointed to his eye. "You've got the Brand."

His gaze softened then, and he said, "You look like him, too."

"Lucina, the shadow in the night that preys on the weak! I would recognize your villainous fighting style anywhere!" Cynthia exclaimed, flailing her arms dramatically.

"What does my Brand have to do with all this?" Lucina hunched her shoulders defensively. She could feel her heart pounding, hands starting to sweat, but she was careful not to let it show.

Lon'qu shared a look with the manakete, and Brady continued to shuffle nervously beside her.

"Don't get her too worked up," the medic warned. "It won't do her any good."

The swordmaster sighed and nodded, bringing one of his hands up to run it through his hair. He looked tired and hesitant, as if he didn't know how to proceed.

"How much did Grima tell you about your parents?" Lon'qu asked.

Lucina's lips twisted into a grimace. Her thoughts ran a mile a minute, analyzing the possible answers she could give. Should she tell the truth? Or lie?

Lucina wasn't sure about how much these rebels knew, so what if she accidentally gave them new information when she told them the truth? They were acting as if they knew already, though, if the careful way they treated her was anything to go by. Besides, if Lucina found herself caught in a lie, it'd be harder to gain their trust. Then how would she be able to escape?

The princess swallowed and quietly admitted, "Grima is my mother. She raised me from birth."

"Hmph," Lon'qu sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Did she tell you why you were born with a Brand?"

"She said that she slept with a Ylissean royal to gain information, then gutted him in his sleep. I was the fallout of her plan."

Cynthia let out some sort of sound, though she was quick to disguise it as a cough. The girl looked very sad. Nah didn't seem bothered at all, mouth downturned and eyes neutral, while Brady was red in the face, obviously angry.

Lon'qu…

Lucina couldn't read Lon'qu at all. The man was like stone.

"Mother became...testy when I asked about my lineage so I don't know much about him. It wasn't very fun to be around her after I asked," Lucina chuckled darkly. "So I stopped asking. There were some questions that I worked out by myself, and others I left alone. I found out that my father had been the leader of the Shepherds, but I never questioned how Grima got herself so close to him and then slept with him."

Silence.

"Well," Lon'qu said finally, "that matches with what we know. A few differences, but-"

"That's not how it happened!" Cynthia protested loudly, standing up and slamming her hands on the table. "There's tons of differences, okay? Like, like...Grima waited a while to kill him! She lied and pretended that she loved him, but then she stabbed him in the back and  _used you to do it!_ "

"What are you talking about?" Lucina asked, bewildered.  _And why are you this upset?_

The girl's words from yesterday came back to Lucina.

_::"What are you doing with_ my father's  _sword?"::_

_::Grima twirled the sword in her hands and let out a mocking laugh. "It was_ your father's,"  _she sneered, eyes bright. "The only thing he was good for, in the end."_

_She tossed to it to Lucina, who awkwardly caught it with fumbling hands._

" _I'm giving it to you. Think of it as a birthday present."_

_Later when Mother came back, she looked at Lucina with sad eyes and asked where in the world she had gotten the sword.::_

"He was your father, too." The words were bitter on Lucina's tongue, sharp and distasteful, as the truth usually was. The thought of having another sibling should've been more shocking than it was. Grima had said that her father sired no more children after her. Either Grima didn't know about Cynthia or she'd been lying.

She'd most likely lied.

Cynthia puffed out her cheeks and looked like she wanted to throw herself forward towards Lucina, but thankfully she held back and sat down in her seat.

Lucina had not expected a family 'reunion'. Lucina had not wanted one. She hoped that Cynthia didn't expect too much from her, as Lucina felt nothing more than indifference towards the girl. She was a stranger, after all, and an enemy at that.

"So what? Grima came back and had seconds?" Lucina spitefully asked. She was angry. No, she was furious.

Grima had lied. Okay, a little annoying. She did it all the time, though so Lucina wasn't that upset.

Grima had had another child with Lucina's father. Okay, whatever. Not important. Lucina didn't care about that. She loved Morgan to death and never felt any jealousy towards him, even when Grima did clearly favor the younger boy.

Grima had decided to leave one child behind while she took the other with her. How did Grima choose? Did she flip a coin and take Lucina with her, leaving Cynthia behind? What was Mother think-

Lon'qu's response halted Lucina's thought process.

"No," he said, wincing.

He looked at Cynthia silently, as if asking for permission for something. and once the girl nodded her head, he continued. "You and Cynthia have different mothers."

Oh. Well, that changed a lot of things. Lucina froze, hands clutching the armrests of her seat, and mentally chided herself for jumping to conclusions. She didn't understand why she was so worked up over it.

Lucina had grown up surrounded by love, by wealth and power. Cynthia had grown up surrounded by what? Death and poverty, most certainly. Being a traitor to Grima's empire didn't exactly grant one a luxurious lifestyle.

Lucina took a deep breath. The princess had to play nice with these people. She had to be extra careful, too, since they knew her identity as Grima's child.

"Who came first?" she asked lightly. "Was Grima the prince's mistress?"

Cynthia offered Lucina a shaky smile, which looked very wrong on her face, and replied. "No, that would be my mom."

It was obviously a sore subject, and so Lucina let it drop, her leg starting to ache again. The princess didn't want the other girl to start crying. Lucina had never been good at comforting people.

"You were the heir to Ylisse," Nah cut in, frowning. "The people loved you and your mother. She'd helped Ylisse win the Ylisse-Plegia War as the prince's tactician, so of course they adored her, but you symbolized something new. A fresh start."

"We didn't understand why Grima took you with her when she left," Lon'qu muttered. "We thought that she might use you as a hostage, but there was no mention of anything of the sort. No ransom notes, no messengers calling for surrender in exchange for you."

"We thought she might've killed you," Cynthia cried, clenching her hands into fists. "What could Grima want with a child?"

Lucina thought of lessons and training regimens, of reciting Grima's words over and over again as she cut into the weak, the traitorous filth. She remembered running until her legs gave out underneath her, conditioning her body so that she would be able to withstand any conditions. The perfect soldier. The perfect shield.

She wanted to laugh.

"We've been looking for you for a long time," Lon'qu said carefully. "A very long time."

Lucina stiffened, the pain in her leg growing as she winced. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Were they trying to recruit her? All this talk of how she was a symbol of a new start, of how people had loved her. Taking her in, treating her wounds, explaining the truth of the situation to her, and trying to 'open her eyes'.

As if it was that easy. As if Lucina would break in such a way. For all of Mother's faults, the woman still loved her. These Ylissean people that had supposedly loved her would not care for an extension of Grima who had slayed hundreds of their loved ones. And what would Morgan or Noire think if she betrayed them? What of Tharja and Henry?

Her dead father's companions were trying to win her over, but Lucina would not be won. She narrowed her eyes and unconsciously ran her hand over her leg, forcing all thoughts of betrayal out of her mind. It was impossible.

Brady cleared his throat loudly, glancing down at Lucina with a grimace. "Nothin'. It doesn't mean anything. Just that we're glad to see ya again and hope ya  _feel better soon_."

The medic shot Lon'qu a pointed look that clearly told him to stop with the recruitment campaign or whatever it was they were trying to do.

Lon'qu grunted and begrudgingly nodded his head, standing from his seat. "I've said all I needed to say anyways."

A twinge of annoyance ran through Lucina. That was all he had to say. This meeting did nothing but dredge up the past and old wounds. Was that its only purpose?

The man made to leave, and so Lucina spoke up.

"What about my clearance?"

Lon'qu paused, glancing back at her. "You've already passed."

"That's it? You hardly checked to see if I was dangerous or not," Lucina told him, unimpressed.

"I've seen all I needed to see," Lon'qu reasoned, his eyes meeting Lucina's one last time before he left.

Lucina felt a chill go through her, and her previous judgement of her captors was quickly rewritten. The children were not to be feared, as their hearts were still innocent and soft, but the adults were another matter entirely, hardened by years of war. Lon'qu's eyes had been dark and dangerous. She wondered what he would have done with her if she hadn't been the lost princess they'd been looking for.

"Well," Lucina started, "if that's it, then...?"

Brady nodded his head, getting the hint, and he helped her to stand. She leaned against him as she got a good hold of her crutches and then straightened herself out.

"Thank you," she murmured, limbs shaky.

The medic grumbled something that was too quiet for Lucina to hear as he held the tent flap up for her to exit.

"What did you say?" Lucina asked, shuffling forward.

"It's no problem, ya hear? I'm just doing my job," Brady insisted.

Lucina let out a light laugh. Her eyes strained to adjust to the sudden sunlight. "You didn't have to, though. I'm sure you could've pushed me off on some other healer."

Brady was oddly quiet at that. Lucina wondered if it was because he was embarrassed.

"Oh," Lucina paused for a moment, realizing something. "Lon'qu never said who would supervise me."

Brady's face scrunched up in thought. Finally, he said, "He'll probably talk it over with the others. See who wants to do it and then make sure they can handle ya."

"Do you think they'll choose Cynthia?" Lucina questioned, frowning. She really hoped not. Being around the girl would be bothersome now that she knew Cynthia was her half-sister.

Brady shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know. They'll probably pick someone else since she's kind of attached to ya, but who knows?"

"Attached to me?" Lucina repeated. "What do you mean by that?"

"She was real protective when I was fixing ya up. Kept trying to tell me how to dress your wounds and stuff. It was like she thought I wasn't able to handle it by myself."

Lucina's frown deepened. "Huh," was all she said.

"C'mon," Brady jerked his head. "I need to check on your leg. It looked like it was acting up back there."

Lucina obeyed, and the two of them returned to the tent that Lucina had woken up in. It remained untouched with the exception of the missing empty plate that Lucina had eaten from. Someone must've taken it to be cleaned while she was gone.

She slowly eased into a chair, stretching out her legs with a wince. The flesh on her left remained an irritated purple, though Lucina noticed that its color wasn't as dark as before. Brady bent down to inspect the skin that peeked out from her bandages, wrinkling his nose at the sight of the yellow puss that leaked through.

"Should've known ya wouldn't be able to walk so soon," he said, the anger leaking through his voice.

The princess realized that the anger Brady felt was directed at himself.

"It's all right," Lucina assured him. She blinked rapidly, her vision blurring. "I've had much worse before."

That was a lie, but Brady wouldn't know any better. The medic was not placated by her words, though, and he shook his head furiously. "Just because yer used to it, doesn't mean ya should have to go through it."

Lucina's stomach clenched, and she remembered Grima crooning in her ear, whispering praise as Lucina dug blades into her arms and stuck her toes in flames, all on Grima's command.

_::"Endurance, sweet girl,"_   _Grima murmured._  " _We're building up your endurance."::_

Her leg burned, and the bile rose up her throat, bubbling passed her lips as she wretched. The vomit hit the ground with a squelch, and Brady made a sound of alarm. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucina saw his hands reaching towards her. She slapped them away, and her stomach clenched again, readying itself as another wave of nausea passed over her.

"Get away," Lucina panted, choking on her own words. "D-don't touch me!"

More vomit. The sound of someone in distress. Brady held up his hands as if in surrender. "It's okay, Lucina," he murmured. "I'm not going to touch you."

One last wretch and Lucina's stomach was empty of her lunch. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, the bile sticking to her skin.

"Shut up!" Lucina barked. "Just shut up, why don't you?"

"I'm fine, okay?" the princess continued. "I'm perfectly fine, so just don't touch me."

She thought of scalpels and claws that digged into human flesh.

_::"This is what a kidney looks like," her mother crooned, distorted features sprayed with red as she held the organ up for Lucina to see::_

The hands that dissected so many people with careful precision were the same hands that tucked Lucina into bed at night and wiped away her tears.

The princess took deep breaths, blinking away the dark thoughts that lurked inside her mind. She pushed the guilt back down and held her tears in. She couldn't let one of her captors see her crying. Lucina couldn't look weak.

"Lucina, you need to calm down," Brady said firmly. "Your body's messing up your mind right now. There must've been some poison in your leg still that's triggering this."

That's right. Bottle it up. Don't cry and don't think. Just do. Run on instinct alone, and you would survive. Soldiers couldn't afford to feel. Lucina was the perfect soldier.

So why had she ended up captured?

Because she had thought. Because she had felt. Because she hadn't wanted to die. Lucina was not perfect. She probably never had been.

Grima would not want her now, Lucina realized. An injured pawn who would not be able to walk properly was no pawn at all. It was just a sad, broken thing ready to be thrown out. Even if Lucina made it out of here, she would have nowhere to go.

Why hadn't she died? Why had she let her selfishness come to light?

"Listen to me, Lucina," a calm voice soothed. "I'm going to need you to take deep breaths, okay? Can you do that for me?"

The voice was almost like an anchor, tying Lucina down so she would not drift off into the haze of rot and death. It broke through the barrier of her muddled mind, and Lucina shakily nodded her head. She tried to even out her breathing, but her pants were shallow and her whole chest shook with the effort.

"That's right. Good. You're doing perfect, Lucina. Just relax. In. Out. Got it? In and out."

Slowly, Lucina's eyes focused and her mind cleared. She blinked, breathing returned to normal, and felt a lump form in her throat.

"Are you with me, Lucina?" Brady asked, kneeling in front of her as he took her hands in his own. There was vomit on the floor and on his clothes. Brady didn't seem to care about it. He narrowed his eyes and inspected her, raising a hand to her forehead to check her temperature.

"Shit, a fever," he muttered.

"Sorry," Lucina breathed, horrified. She hated being taken care of. She hated being a bother, a nuisance.

"S'not yer fault," Brady's casual tone returned, though he still clearly worried and upset.

"It's mine," he continued, lowering his gaze to the floor. "I don't know how to take care of anything like this. I'm just a kid."

Lucina trembled at Brady's admission. "I don't think that," she slurred, throat sore.

For some reason, it was the truth. Even though Brady was the enemy and Lucina should be trying her best to tear him down, she found that she couldn't. He was trying his best to fix her up, and he had showed her kindness.

Despite what Grima had taught her, Lucina had always admired honest people.

Brady gestured to the suspiciously dark vomit on the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. "We'll clean this up, but it's probably better if we move ya somewhere else," he said. "Besides, I'm sure that ole makeshift bed wasn't very comfy, and ya need all the sleep ya can get right now."

"Can I take a bath?" Lucina asked hesitantly. She thought of the slight puke on the back of her hand, drying the longer she left it. "I don't like how I smell."

Brady's face reddened. "Yeah," he said. "I'll call in Kjelle for that. She'll help you. "

* * *

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. Brady gave Lucina a remedy for her fever that worked, and the dizziness slowly crept away. The medic had sat Lucina on another chair across the room. A soldier came in with a bucket and gloves, and Brady rolled up his sleeves, waving the soldier away. The medic set to work cleaning up Lucina's mess as the princess looked on guiltily.

A short girl then came for Lucina and guided her to the bathhouse. She made sure that no one was using it and then drew water, helping Lucina into the tub.

The girl had cropped blond hair and a serious face that matched her attitude. She turned her back to Lucina while the princess bathed and only spoke when necessary, like when she asked Lucina if she had enough soap or if she needed any more washcloths.

Kjelle, Lucina noted dully. This was Kjelle, the girl Brady had spoken of.

The distance between them was nice. Lucina found that she was getting tired of the familiarity around here.

Her leg didn't sting anymore. Brady had given her something to make the pain go away. The hurt surfaced a little, though, when Lucina sat down in the tub and washed it with soap. Even though Lucina felt barely anything, her leg was clearly irritated, and she knew no idea what to do about it.

It seemed Brady didn't either.

Lucina tried to think back to what her mother had told her about the knife. There was a curse on it, one of Grima's specialties. It was supposed to obliterate any living thing it penetrated as well as said living thing's surroundings. It was like a giant bomb except it hadn't gone off completely.

It wasn't supposed to have a cure, an antidote.

Could her leg even be saved? Brady had said it would heal in a few weeks, but that was earlier, when the wound hadn't looked so infected. Lucina shivered, carefully wiping off the filth from her thigh. Whatever. She'd get better soon. She would. And then she would return home to Mother and Morgan.

Kjelle helped her to stand, looking way when she could allow to, and pointed to a pile of garments near the tub. "You can wear those."

Lucina muttered her thanks, dried off, and shakily dressed herself. The garments were a simple shirt and shorts, both of them a dark grey. She struggled with the shorts, of course, and hissed as the material slightly caught on her wound.

"Go ahead and roll those up," Kjelle said. "Brady gave me some ointment to put on your leg."

Lucina obeyed, shoving the material up so Kjelle could reach the rotten patch of skin on her upper thigh. The ointment smelled like herbs, and it felt grainy on Lucina's tender skin. It was different than what Brady had lathered on before. Stronger perhaps?

Kjelle wrapped up her thigh, and then they headed back. Brady had finished getting rid of Lucina's vomit, but the air in the tent still stunk. Kjelle left after Brady dismissed her. The medic took off his dirtied gloves and plopped them into the bucket, wrinkling his nose.

"We'll get ya in a new tent a minute," he told Lucina. "Just need to get it ready."

They were going through so much trouble for _her?_ Lucina swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Why are you people being so nice to me? Is it because you want me to join you?" she asked desperately.

No. Lucina shouldn't have asked Brady about their motive. There was no way she would get a straight answer.

But Brady was silent for a moment, considering her words. Finally, he said. "We just want you to be happy."

Lucina wished she could believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DIALOGUE HEAVY CHAPTER OMG SAVE ME
> 
> i really hate this chapter because half of it seems pointless, but then i think it has to be here now or it'll be here later? scattered memories here and there. Lucina's breakdown reappears and so does the poisoned dagger. i feel like i'm repeating myself over and over again in several places, but i want to make sure a point gets across, i guess? idk that's what i tell myself at least lmao
> 
> i hate how this chapter ended, but like it had to end somewhere and things were getting kind of dragged out so...
> 
> also does the fire emblem universe have shorts? like i know they have skirts and pants? but what about shorts? is this horribly inaccurate? or does anyone even care?


	5. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to everyone who was excited when they saw this, but this is NOT a new chapter. It's just an update on where this story is going.

I've recently rediscovered my inspiration for this fic and decided that I want to  **rewrite it.** I know that I was nowhere close to finishing it, but there's a few more plot elements that I want to work into the story. I can only do that if I rewrite it. 

I'm going to keep the published chapters up, and I'll be making edits to them as I revise my story. 

Thanks for anyone that's stuck along so far, and thanks to everyone who's left comments, kudos, or just enjoyed what I wrote. I want to do my best, and I feel like I can only do better if I head another direction with this fic. 

Hopefully, we'll see each other soon. 


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